


A Hero's Journal

by hufflepuffsquee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Brief suicidal thoughts, Canon Compliant, F/F, mixed format, narrative and journal format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffsquee/pseuds/hufflepuffsquee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anders,</p><p>I’m a Grey Warden now, if you can believe it. I’ve already nearly died in the battle that killed the King and managed to pick up a former Chantry sister, a Witch of the Wilds, and a Qunari soldier to help me. Oh, and a dog! I have a dog, Anders!"</p><p>Elaina 'Mell' Amell leaves the Circle Tower to become a Warden, grasping opportunities she never thought she'd have in her imprisoned life. She documents them all in a journal, directed to Anders, coming to see both the world and her life very differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?”

Mell blinks at Leliana from her spot on the ground as her companion seats herself on the log next to her. Awkwardly, Mell runs a hand through the buzz cut, frowning as she looks at Leliana, wondering if this is, somehow, a trick.

“My…. Hair?”

“Yes.” Leliana giggles before she continues. “It’s very nice and it suits you.”

Mell smiles as she looks back at the fire, the expression more sadness than joy.

“Thank you… It used to be long. To my shoulders. I… Think it was pretty, once. Wavy.”

“Oh, it sounds so beautiful!” Leliana leans forward, “Why ever did you cut it?”

The smile fades and Mell’s gaze doesn’t shift.

“I was… I didn’t like the Circle. I didn’t like listening to the Templars. I had… attitude. A mouth. Some of them took to grabbing me by the hair when I actually expressed my distaste. So, one day, I just… cut it off.” She shrugs.

“Oh… I’m so sorry.” Leliana’s voice is softer now, and Mell glances at her before speaking again, trying to turn the tone of the conversation.

“It’s… Well, obviously they couldn’t grab it any more. It was a little funny, actually. I had just… used a knife, you know. It was a little desperate of me, but I did. My friend Jowan found me with my hair a mess, most of it on the floor. He turned into a nervous wreck, sweeping it up, getting the knife away from me, wondering how on Earth he could make it look better. He was always so loud when he started to fret about something. Another friend –my only other friend, actually- heard him fussing. We called him Anders, I don’t know what his name really is, but anyway… He actually helped me shave it down properly… Said it made me look tough.”

She’s smiling a little, thinking of Anders and Jowan. She misses them. Hopefully, they’re both safe. She knows that Jowan, at least, was free. Maybe Anders finally made it out. She’d looked for him at Ostagar, but no such luck. She hadn’t had high hopes, the Templars would likely never bring a mage as rebellious as Anders out.

“All the same… It truly does suit you.” Leliana is speaking again, startling Mell into looking at her again. “And I hope… Well, I hope you will find more friends. I hope, maybe, I could be included among them.”

It’s odd, the way she says it. Her tone doesn’t make Mell feel obligated, but it instead sounds like a truly sincere wish.

“Thank you.” Mell replies. “And… I like your hair, too. I like the braid.”

“You do? I learned this style in Orlais. It’s very simple compared to what they enjoyed there. The things they would do! They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels… One year, feathers were all the rage, and Lady Elise decided she needed to outdo everyone else, and actually wore live songbirds in her voluminous hair. The chirping was quite charming for a while, but you must realize, terrified little birdies often have loose bowels."

Mell claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“She… truly wore birds in her hair? Why? That’s so… It seems so pointless!”

“Oh, it was. It all was, really. But it was pretty when it wasn’t too much.”

Mell shakes her head, laughing a little.

“That’s… Something.”

“Yes.” Leliana giggles again, and something about the sound makes Mell’s chest warm. “Oh, but I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn’t I! Forgive me. My mind wanders so. It's just that I... I feel so comfortable talking to you, like I could say anything and you wouldn't judge me."

Mell blinks at her, wondering what she’s done to give that impression. She’s not exactly the most outgoing, but she’s not been cruel. Merely distant. It’s the only way she knows how to be. The Templars find out, otherwise, and they’re not kind when they find leverage against troublesome mages.

“Oh.” She looks at Leliana out of the corner of her eye, wondering what she means by this. After a few long moments of silence, she decides to test what, _exactly_  Leliana might mean. “And do you… Often enjoy the company of other women?”

She can practically feel Anders clapping her shoulder at the comment, and it makes her smile.

"And what would you do if I said I do? Very much so, in fact?"

_I would wonder why on Earth you would choose a woman like me, with a shaved head and dirty leathers and tainted blood._

“I think… I’d tell you I’m quite all right with that, Leliana. And that I’d like to talk to you more.”

“I would, as well.” Leliana says, but she stands even as she does so. “But it is late, and I have the last watch. So perhaps later, when there is more time.”

Mell nods as she goes, watching her disappear into her tent before looking back at the fire. She wonders, again, what Anders might think. Anders always loved things like this. Talking about being with someone. That was all it really could be at the Circle, just talking. Well, aside from quick dalliances in corners beneath robes before the Templars came hunting for you.

But actually having someone, being with someone. Anders had loved the idea. And, Mell supposed, some of that had rubbed off on her. He’d painted such amazing pictures about it that it was hard not to want the same things. Jowan had, apparently, found that with Lily.

Thinking of Lily made her smile. Oh, what Jowan would think of Leliana. It made her laugh to herself that they managed to have such similar stories. Chantry women with similar names. Jowan would laugh and say it was his doing. Anders would be prodding her to go for it, to make a move.

Perhaps she would. Perhaps, and far more likely, she would have to face the archdemon before she could ever make up her mind. She barely knew if she’d survive from one day to the next. But maybe, just maybe… She could finally have what Anders had talked so animatedly about, something she’d barely ever dared to dream about.

A thought occurs to her, and she digs through her pack for a journal she picked up at Ostagar (Duncan’s suggestion, he said nearly all Wardens took to keeping one) and began to write.

_Anders,_

_I’m a Grey Warden now, if you can believe it. I’ve already nearly died in the battle that killed the King and managed to pick up a former Chantry sister, a Witch of the Wilds, and a Qunari soldier to help me. Oh, and a dog! I have a dog, Anders! I named him Barkspawn. Alistair, the other Grey Warden with me, laughed for ages when I named him. He’s a former Templar, but… he seems alright. I don’t trust him yet, not really. It’s exciting, if a bit strange. I have no idea what I’m doing, and it feels like everyone expects me to._

_Which is nice, in a way. Nobody is ordering me around. I don’t have to worry about using too strong of a spell and paying for it. I can talk to any of them I want, whenever I want. I sleep when I please, I can buy things with my own money. There are downsides, sure. There’s the darkspawn horde to deal with. Awful nightmares. Apparently an archdemon. Oh, and people think we’re traitors to Fereldon. But I’m not at the Circle. I don’t have to be scared of Templars. Well, I’m wary of Alistair, but he’s… He seems harmless, really._

_And Leliana, that Chantry sister… Look, I don’t know if you heard about Jowan and Lily, but he was seeing one of the Sisters at the Tower before he escaped. And now I feel like he and I are quite a pair, eyeing Chantry sisters with nearly identical names._

_She’s… sweet. I’m not used to someone looking at me like this, and she looks at me all the time. She just told me she likes how I wear my hair, which made me think of you. It’s still that short, I never want it long again. But back to Leliana… She said she likes talking to me. That she likes the company of other women. She’s… Actually, she’s really gorgeous, I think you’d be jealous._

_Remember how much you talked about wanting to meet someone someday? You’re so in love with the idea of love. It rubbed off on me, and now… Now I think I can have that. I think that’s a possibility for me. Which is… Scary, almost. I still feel like the Templars could somehow take that away from me. I know they can’t, but it’s all I’ve known for years._

_I hope I see you again someday. Or at least find out where you are so that this letter can reach you. It’s just a journal for now, but maybe someday you’ll be able to read it. I miss you and Jowan both. Terribly. I hate that you’re the only one left at the Tower, but I have a feeling you won’t be for long. Think you’ll actually manage to get those piercings you wanted this time? I remember when you got your ear done, Ruthorford was absolutely furious about it. Especially when Irving let you keep it. It suits you, I hope you still have it._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mell finds an old friend while working to make progress as a Warden.

“By all that’s holy… Mell?! It’s you, I can’t believe it!”

Mell looks up from stomping out the flames on a corpse near her boot and her jaw drops.

“Jowan!?” She runs to the door of the cell, reaching through. Jowan’s hand meets hers and clasps it tight. “Maker, Jowan, I thought… How did… Hang on, I need you out of here. Leliana? Could you… Please, he’s my friend, I know him.”

Leliana smiles and with a soft, “Of course,” has started to work picking the lock. When the lock clicks open and Leliana moves aside, Mell throws open the door. She and Jowan meet each other halfway, hugging.

“I’ve never seen you outside of Cricle robes! Look at you, you look like some… proper warrior, my goodness!” Jowan is babbling, holding her at arm’s length. “How did you get out of the Tower, what are you _doing_ here?”

“After you left, I thought Greagoir was going to just run me through for helping you! But that Warden, he needed people, so he took me as a recruit. It’s… After that it’s a bit long, but that’s how I’m out. I’m fine, just… Well, apparently one of two of us left to stop the Blight.” She replies, looking him up and down and frowning at the absolute plethora of bruises. “What happened to you, Jowan? What is this, what happened? What did they do to you?”

“What they do to all traitors and would-be assassins. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent you to finish me off.”

“I… What?” Her face falls. “I’m not going to kill you, Jowan!”

“You might change your mind once you hear.” He steps back, shaking his head. “I poisoned the arl. For all I know, he’s dead already.”

“No,” She shakes her head. “No, no, he’s not dead.”

“He’s not!? That’s a relief, I can’t tell you how much…”

“Jowan… What did you do?”

“Please, listen. I know how it seems. Poisoning the arl was a terrible thing… But I’m not behind everything happening here, I swear!”

“It’s okay, it’s alright. I believe you, I trust you. But just… Talk to me.”

“I will, I just…” He sighs. “Before I say anything else, I need to ask you a question. You can do whatever you feel you need to afterward, but I _need_ to know… What became of Lily? They didn’t hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime…”

“I…” She frowns and shakes her head. “The Chantry sent her away. I’m sorry, Jowan, I don’t know where.”

“Oh… Oh, my poor Lily. She must hate me now, if she even lives. What have I done!?”

“What you thought you had to.” She steps forward again, gripping his shoulder with one hand. “They had you _trapped_. You’re alive. You’re not Tranquil. That’s… Maker, that’s more than I’d have dared hope for, after things went wrong.”

Jowan smiles at her, even if it is a bit sad.

“So.” He says at length. “Here we are again, the two of us. What happens now?”

“I just need to know how you ended up here, how you ended up involved in all of this! I believe you had no part in the corpses, but… How did you get here?”

“Well… Connor had started to show… signs. Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training. She sought an apostate to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea.”

“Could this have been Connor? A young mage who doesn’t know much…”

“I thought that, too. He may have done something to tear open the Veil, even if he didn’t mean to.”

“And with the Veil torn… Spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create the corpses.” Mell nods, thinking. “Do we have any proof it might have been him?”

“I don’t know. I was already imprisoned when it all began. At first, Lady Isolde came here with her men demanding that I reverse what I’d done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the arl. That’s the first I heard about the walking corpses. She… had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they… left me to rot.”

Mell’s stomach sinks like a stone and she swallows thickly, the corners of her eyes pricking.

“Maker… Jowan… Let me look at you, do you need healing? I… Let me help.”

Jowan smiles.

“I managed to take care of the worst of it. Thinking of you while I did. Remember you told me every mage-”

“Needs to know at least a little healing magic. Yes, I remember. Anders and I both drilled it into you.” She smiles. “But… I still don’t understand why you poisoned the arl.”

“I was instructed to!”

Mell raised an eyebrow.

“By Teyrn Loghain.”

“Oh, of course.” Mell growled.

“You know him?”

“He betrayed us at Ostagar. I almost died because of him. What did he tell you about the arl to get you to do this?”

“I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Fereldan, and that if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to return… Maker, I’ve made so many mistakes! I disappointed so many people…”

“Not me. Never me, Jowan. I was… surprised by the blood magic, but… You’re still my friend. And you don’t need to go back. For all you know, they’d still make you Tranquil. Don’t go back there, you don’t need to. They don’t even have your phylactery. You’re free!”

“I suppose. But I don’t know how to live outside of the Circle.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Mell smiles. “I promise. I’ve managed.”

“You’re right.” He nods. “What of you, is there anything else?”

“Some.” She glances at Leliana, who had the sense to lead the others down the hall some minutes ago in order to give she and Jowan some space. “I’ve… Leliana, she’s… I might… There might be something.”

“Really?” His eyes light up and he clasps her shoulders. “Mell! That’s fantastic!”

“It… She is.” A grin spreads across her face. “Oh, I haven’t told you the best part! She was a Chantry sister.”

It takes a moment for the comment to make sense, but when it does, Jowan laughs, so hard he has to double over.

“Oh, Maker. Anders would have a fit. Both of us with Chantry sisters. And their names even sound alike!”

Her heart drops at the mention of Anders.

“Jowan… There’s… I need to tell you something. About the Circle.”

Jowan straightens, head tilted.

“I… I’ve been looking for help. With the Blight, there are contracts. Anyway, the Circle of Fereldan has one with the Wardens, so I went for help and… Do you remember Uldred?”

“Yes… Why? What happened?”

“He… snapped.” She shrugs. “He had a whole group of blood mages, he’d been possessed. There were demons and abominations everywhere. Some mages were fine, but I didn’t… Jowan, I didn’t see Anders.”

She watches the information sink in and hates that she had to tell him.

“Maybe… Maybe he was in solitary confinement?” Jowan tries. “He ended up there a lot.”

“We can hope.” She says, nodding, but she doesn’t really believe it. “I’ll… I will find out what happened. I promise, I’ll look for him. I’ll get word to you if I can he’s alive.”

“What… Get word to me?” He looks puzzled.

“Yes. I… Jowan, you didn’t really think… You can’t stay here! I don’t trust Isolde, who knows what she’d do. You need to get out of here, you need to run!”

“But I could come with you!”

“No.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, I won’t ask you to do that. I won’t _let_ you do that. You deserve better than fighting darkspawn. Here.” She digs in the pack and her waist, handing him several sovereigns. “Take this. Get out of here. As far as you can, Orlais if you have to. Tevinter. I don’t care, just… Go. I’ll find out where you are, I’ll be in touch, if I make it through the Blight.”

“But-”

“No. Go. Be careful, and get out here.”

He nods, bringing her in for one last tight hug before turning to sprint out of the castle. Mell watches him go, brow furrowed, sending up a prayer to a god she isn’t really certain she believes in before nodding for her companions to follow her.


	3. Chapter 3

“Here,” She says, holding the amulet by the chain.

It isn’t that she’s overly fond of Alistair, exactly. She has no reason to trust the former Templar. But he’s been… morose since their return to Ostagar. Not that she blames him for that, really. She understands, sort of. Well, she’s trying. She thinks part of it is because Cailin was his half-brother, an attachment that befuddles her.

“What is… Hang on, is this… My mother’s amulet?” Alistair takes it, turning it over and over in his hands and staring at it. He keeps asking questions, getting more and more excited with each one that passes his lips. “It is, it has to be. But… Why isn’t it broken? Where did you get this? How did you find it!?”

“It was in Arl Eamon’s study.” Mell shrugs.” I found it while we made our way through the castle, I was looking for anything helpful.”

“The Arl’s study… then he must have found it after I threw it… And he repaired it and kept it? Why would he do that?”

Another shrug comes by way of reply.

“I don’t know. Perhaps he cares more than you thought? Maybe he was sorry. I’m not… Really good at family things, but… You should have that.”

“What do you mean?” Alistair asks, “About the… family thing?”

Mell shifts a little uncomfortably.

“I’m from a Circle. Now… some of us, our parents didn’t want to give us up. It did happen, from time to time. Sometimes they’re like Isolde, don’t want anyone knowing their noble blood has magic in it. Others genuinely don’t want to lose their children. Mine?” She snorts. “My whole family was terrified of me. I didn’t even _do_  anything and they sold me out to the Templars when I tried to hide.”

She’s said it so many times, thought about it so often, it doesn’t faze her much anymore. But as she watches Alistair’s face, it dawns on her again that this story isn’t normal, that some people actually still see what her parents did as wrong. It’s strangely refreshing. Especially from Alistair.

“I’m.. sorry.”

“I have a feeling none of us in this merry band had ideal childhoods.” She replies with a small smile. “But… You’re welcome. For the amulet. It… I hope it helps, in whatever way.”

“Thank you. Hey, are you… After going back, are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… We almost died there. Didn’t it bother you?”

Another small smile as she shakes her head.

“I almost died the first time the Templars found me and I put up a fight. I almost died during my Harrowing. I almost died when I refused to betray Jowan. I almost died when I took my Joining. I keep almost dying lately, and I’m… I’m alright. Thank you.”

“She helps, doesn’t she.” Alistair has this knowing smile, nearly a smirk on his face, and Mell blinks.

“What?”

“Leliana.” He nods across the fire where Leliana is sitting playing with Barkspawn. “You’re… I think she likes you. I think it’s more than a little mutual. Just from an observer’s standpoint, you know.”

“I see.” Mell replies, lips pursed, eyes still on Leliana. “I hadn’t thought it was obvious. Should I… Do I need to stop?”

“Stop? Why?”

“We’re Wardens. We have a duty to Fereldan, we have to stop the Blight.”

“There’s… No rule against having someone to care about while we do.” He sounds confused. “You… Of course you can carry on with her, Mell. Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Another Circle thing, I suppose.” She shrugs. “You didn’t have people like that in a Circle. You couldn’t. If you misbehaved, the Templars learned who to go after to make you behave. You didn’t… Do that. Not in the Circle, not around the Templars.”

“Maker.” He breathes. “Good thing I got out of that, then.”

“You’d take poisoned blood and a short life over living as a Templar?” She looks at him, brow furrowed.

“I’d take anything over being expected to terrify people.” He nods.

She hums, turning her eyes to the fire.

“That’s… Thank you for the talk, Alistair. I learned something I hadn’t known about you.” He begins to say something, but she shakes her head. “I have watch, and I’d like to write in my journal. Take care of that amulet.”

She takes up her pack and moves to where she has a vantage point of the camp before settling down against a tree and starting to write.

_Anders,_

_That former Templar, Alistair. He’s… Interesting. Got shifted around from place to place as a kid. First with his uncle, then off to the church when rumors of his parentage proved too much for Lady Isolde. People thought he was Eamon’s bastard. You know, the arl of Redcliffe. He’s not. He’s still a bastard. A royal bastard, and I don’t mean he’s a prick. I mean he’s Maric’s son. He somehow thinks that Eamon has a better claim to the throne, but that doesn’t seem likely to me. Then again, I don’t know shit about kings._

_Anyway, we went back to Ostagar, the place where Loghain turned tail and we nearly died. We found the King’s body, the darkspawn had hung it up and used it for target practice. It was weird, making a pyre for the King. It was even weirder because Alistair was just so upset. I don’t understand. Then again, I don’t know what it’s like to have any connection to a family._

_It’s odd. He didn’t even know the King, but he was upset. He speaks of him as his half-brother, even though they only met a handful of times. Me? You know me. I hate my family. If it had been my brother strung up, I’d have tried to get some birds to have at him, too. Then again, my brother tied me up and took me to the local Chantry once he saw me using magic…_

_I also found this amulet of his mom’s, and he thanked me many times for it. He doesn’t even really know who she is, just that she had been some serving girl. He kept that locket until he got angry at the arl and then threw it when he was a child. I gave it back and I thought he might just cry. I don’t get it. I got it back from the arl’s study and he seemed so amazed, he thought it meant the arl cares. He doesn’t know his mother and this arl gave him to the church as a kid to get his wife to shut up, but he’s so… attached. It’s strange._

_Speaking of the arl’s castle, I found Jowan there!_

_The arl’s son is a mage and the arlessa wanted an apostate to teach him. Can’t have anyone knowing that noble blood has magic in it, you know the type._

_Jowan’s okay, I gave him some coin and sent him off. Loghain tricked him into poisoning the arl and then the arlessa had him tortured. Tortured! And all because her fool son had gotten involved with a demon and she blamed Jowan. I hope he manages to find you. He wanted to come with me, but we go so many places that he might be recognized. I walk past Templars in every town we travel to, it makes my skin crawl. More than the darkspawn._

_I don’t know what happens to a mage Warden once our duty is done and there is no Blight. For all I know –for all Alistair knows- they’re going to take me back. I can’t do that. I’d rather die than be a prisoner again._


	4. Chapter 4

Mell walks slowly into camp, ensuring once again that bother her spell of silence and invisibility are holding. She had practiced them many times on the way back from Orzammar, the fact that Zevran and Shale were both watching closely not being lost on her. But this had to be a surprise, it absolutely had to be. Leliana had noticed the nugs on their way in and Mell had been determined to procure one for her. Finally, she had managed to find a way to do so in secret, and she’s determined that it stays a secret until the right moment.

Once in sight of Leliana, who’s sitting on her stump eating dinner –something she’s prepared, given how put-out Alistair looks and how frankly happy the rest of them appear- Mell makes a beeline for her, ensuring that the nug, silent and unseen, follows.

“Mell!” Leliana beams at the sight of her and rises, empty bowl left behind on the stump.

Mell holds up a hand, smiling. With a wave of the same hand, she dispels the silence and invisibility cloaking her subterranean companion. The air is filled with the sound of its small squeaking and Leliana’s face lights up.

“Oh! It’s one of those subterranean bunny pigs! Come here, you.” She kneels and the creature comes to her knee. Immediately, he sets to sniffing her and inspecting her, using his lips to investigate her knee.

“Careful,” Mell says, gently, “He nips. Or so the man who found him for me said.”

“He’s probably just hungry.” Leliana reaches out and scratches him behind the ear as the small creature continues his exploration of her leg. “Oooh, he’s snuffling me. Snuffle, snuffle! I think I’ll call you… Schmooples! Yes, a perfect name.”

Leliana giggles and Mell’s chest grows warm.

“Thank you so much!” Leliana stands, taking Mell’s hands in her own. “You’ve made my day.”

“It was no trouble.” Mell smiles, meeting her gaze and feeling her face warm.

“Come on, sit with me.” Leliana lets go of only one of her hands, using the other to guide Mell to sit next to her by the fire. “I want to talk to you.”

Mell feels the flush creep up her neck, aware that Alistair and Zevran are both just across from them. As though reading her mind, Zevran calls out to Alistair.

“If I recall correctly, my friend, you promised me a chance to draft that tattoo you were inquiring about. Come, I’ve supplies in my tent.”

“What?” Alistair looks up at him, brow furrowed. There’s a pause and something seems to click. “Oh! Right. Yes. Sure.”

The two leave and Leliana giggles.

“Never subtle, but kind enough…”

“You… Wanted to talk?”

“Oh, yes!” She faces Mell, idly reaching out to stroke the nug’s ears. “I just wanted to say… "I enjoy the nights at camp, the night always seem more peaceful to me. Safer.”

It strikes Mell as silly, at first. Anything can sneak up upon the unsuspecting in the night, didn’t Leliana know that? But it settles in for her that… This camp had been peaceful. All of them had, in some way, bonded with each other the most during these nights.

“I know what you mean.” She says at last.

“feel the night grants us a reprieve from the troubles of the day. Silly, isn't it? The darkspawn never sleep, and they lurk in the shadows.”

“No! No…” Mell shakes her head, thinking of the moments in the Tower when she and Jowan and Anders would find ways to laugh until they hurt, the small moments they’d shared without Templars constantly watching. “It’s not silly at all to try to find time to forget about your burdens.”

“What I enjoy the most…” Leliana is smiling, but she looks down to the nug, shy. “I enjoy those nights when we stand guard together, talking to pass the time in those small hours. Well… I’ll talk and you listen. I feel like I talk so much…”

“I like listening to you.”

“Thank you… And then, on those nights, sometimes I succumb and fall asleep, and wake to find you still watchful. And I know you’re watching out for me.”

“You…” Mell pauses, holds her breath for a moment to be certain she wants to say this. “Leliana, you never have to feel afraid with me.”

Leliana catches her eye, soft smile still in place, and Mell’s heart speeds up

“Thank you…. What I’m trying to say is… Is that I trust you. I am comfortable around you. I know that you will be there when I need you. You’re our leader, and my friend, and sometimes…” She pauses, and Mell knows that she’s doing exactly what Mell herself had done moments before. Being certain she wants to make this move, to take this plunge. “I think that maybe we could be more than that… Maker… Look at me, stumbling over my words like an ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am…”

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” Mell says as Leliana starts to trail off, her smile wide.

“I’m not embarrassed!” The color in Leliana’s cheeks rises and Mell giggles, squeezing Leliana’s hand, still loosely in her own. “I’m just… flushed because of… the heat.”

“I’ve… I’ve always wanted us to be more than just friends.”

“Really?” Leliana looks taken aback and, to Mell’s fear, a little hurt. “N-no one told me… You… You felt the same way and you didn’t do me the courtesy of informing me? Y-you let me say all those thigns! Why couldn’t you have said them first? Oh, you! …. Oh, how very awkward…”

“Leliana, no” Mell cups Leliana’s face with her free hand, heart plummeting. “No, I… I couldn’t have. Truly. It’s… In the Circle, you can’t… Do things like this. Have people like this. I’m still very… Part of me doesn’t realize that… There are no Templars to take anything away from me. There are no Templars to take you from me. I still act like there are because it’s… All I’ve ever known about. I’m… I’m so sorry… You… Do still like me, right?”

Leliana laughs a little, shaking her head, and Mell notices that her eyes are bright with welling tears. Mell realizes she’s in a similar state.

“Oh, why am I being such a big baby about this? I must be a sight, spilling my guts.”

Mell looks at her, deliberating for only a moment on a reply. Realizing that words will fail her, she leans forward, cautiously pressing her lips to Leliana’s.

She means for it to be a brief kiss, but her body seems to have other plans. The moment she feels Leliana press back, she can’t bring herself to move away. Her hand goes to the back of Leliana’s neck, making Leliana sigh. She’s never done this before in her life, but Mell feels that Leliana won’t care how inexpert she is when she deepens the kiss.

After a few long moments, Mell pulls away, catching her breath.

“Well…” Leliana says, blinking. “I… That settles it, then.”

The pair look at each other for another few moments before collapsing into giggles, pressed against each other’s sides.


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, that was… not what I expected. To put it lightly.”

Mell snorts, glaring over her shoulder at the door of the house they’ve just left. Zevran spits on the ground in front of it, and Leliana pulls him away.

At present, Mell’s wishing she hadn’t been so nice earlier in their journey.

Some nights ago, Alistair had approached Mell in camp, speaking nervously.

“So…. Chances are we’ll be heading to Denerim soon and when we’re there I wonder if we might be able to… look someone up?”

She had been confused, furrowing her brow and replying that Loghain would get what he was due in time.

“Well… Yes, that’s good to, but. The thing is, I have a sister. A half-sister. I told you about my mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle, and she had a daughter. Except… I never knew about her. I don’t think she knew about me, either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden, I did some checking and… Well, I found out she’s still alive. In Denerim. ”

“So? Who is she to you?”

“I just… Wanted to try. I thought about writing her, but I never did. And then we were called to Ostagar and I never got the chance. She’s the only real family I have left, the only family not mixed up in the whole royal thing. I’ve just been thinking that… Maybe it’s time I went to see her. With the Blight coming and everything, I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance to see her. Maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger. I don’t know.”

It had confused Mell to no end, her own understanding of family being a piss poor example, but she had relented. If only because Alistair had looked so desperately at her, pleading. Saying no just felt cruel and, after all, what was a brief side trip?

And now they were here, in Denerim’s square after dealing with a woman who seemed to have the same sense of familial bonding that Mell’s own parents had opted to take on. Which was little and less and based on what they could get out of you.

“I lived up to my promise, I suppose,” Alistair went on, “But… this is the family I’ve been wondering about all my life? I can’t believe it. I… I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn’t that what family is supposed to do? I feel like a complete idiot.”

“Alistair…” Mell sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to be as gentle as she can in this. “This is going to sound cruel, and I am sorry, but it is what experience has taught me: Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that. You _need_ to learn that! Because you’re… Look, your heart is in the right place. But you wear it on your sleeve, you need to look out for yourself, too. For your own good.”

Alistiar blinks for a moment before replying.

“I… Yes, I suppose… you’re right. I should… I.. Let’s just go. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

They finish their brief business in Denerim before making their way back to camp, returning late into the night.

Mell is sitting next to Leliana, healing some of her own bruises covering her thighs, when Alistair approaches her.

“You know…. I’ve been thinking.”

“Hm?”

“Back when we left Goldanna’s, you told me I needed to look out for myself more than I do. I’m beginning to think you were right. I need to stop letting everyone else make my decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I’m never going to be happy.”

Mell nods, slight smile on her face.

“Exactly. Honestly, that’s what I did, and here I am.”

A pause while Alistair looks at her with some incredulity.

“Here you are… fighting a Blight.”

“Out of the Tower. With company. With Leliana. I have a dog. I have good companions. I have people special to me here. I’m… happy.”

“Oh.” He blinks, then grins. “Point taken.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I… I can’t… stay here. I need to go.” Leliana speaks softly, looking at Mell with an expression that’s scared and almost helpless. “I need to be alone for a bit, I think.”

“Go back to camp.” Mell replies, kissing Leliana’s forehead. “It’s alright. We’ll be back soon. Take Barkspawn with you.”

Leliana leaves and the mabari follows, so it’s just Mell and Zevran left.

Mell finds herself standing over Marjolaine’s body, glaring at it for a few solid moments. Calmly, she bends down and removes her coin pouch and a key from her belt. She straightens and holds out a hand to Zevran.

“May I see your sword?”

“But of course.” His voice is unusually quiet, tone solemn for what is possibly the first time as he hands the weapon over.

Once the blade is in her hand, Mell considers a moment before turning it to point down. With a loud, unrestrained shout she drives the blade down into the corpse’s chest. It doesn’t make any difference, Marjolaine’s body is already growing cold, but it feels good somehow. It’s… Something.

There’s a sick sucking sound as the blade is jerked out of Marjolaine’s chest, and Mell debates doing it again. And again and again, all for what she dared to do to Leliana. But it would, ultimately, be pointless. Instead, she gives Zevran his sword back and sets the body afire with a localized blaze. It burns impossibly hot and within moments, there’s simply a pile of ash.

It takes Mell only a few moments to retrieve any items of value from Marjolaine’s belongings, the bow giving her pause. In the end, she takes it, vowing to give it to Leliana later. She should decide what to do with it. 

Zevran and Mell return to camp after buying some well-earned sweetcakes to share, using Mrjolaine’s gold to do so. Once back, Mell goes to where Leliana is staring into the fire and holds out a hand.

“Come on. Let’s get away from here a bit, yeah?”

Leliana blinks at her and takes her hand, offering a small smile.

They walk to a small clearing not far from the camp, a patch of soft grass that offers a near perfect view of the sky above them. They sit back and Mell unwraps the batch of sweetcakes she’s carried here, and Leliana takes one immediately.

There’s a few minutes of silence, not uncomfortable in the least, before Leliana finally speaks.

“I can’t get what happened out of my head.” She murmurs. “I’d been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her. She didn’t’ trust me. Maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use me and control me, and now that she can’t, she wants me dead. It hurts to realize that I never really knew her.”

“Maybe you did and didn’t want to admit it… That happens, sometimes. With people we care about. People we want to care about no matter what.”

“I… I knew she was ruthless, but I didn’t know how far she could go. She’s self-serving, cruel… She uses people, then discards them, but that’s how she survives in the life she leads. And wh-what if she’s right? What if we are the same!? I should have just stayed in the Chantry…”

“Leliana…” Mell puts an arm around her and draws her close. “She would have attacked you there, eventually. Someplace you were safe. That would have been worse.”

“Maybe she would have, but that’s not the point. I was a different person there. I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. I felt _safe_ , I didn’t have to watch my back all the time. That’s what made Marjolaine the person she is, don’t you see? It ruined her, it will ruin me, too. It’s already happened.”

“Le-”

“No, it has. When we killed her, I… I enjoyed it! Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction.”

“Me, too.” Mell gives her a squeeze. “She did you a great injustice. She hurt you, and more than that she was out for your life.”

“But that is no reason to rejoice over her death. That’s what she would do. I don’t want that. What we’re going… What we’ve done –hunted men down, killed them- part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I… I feel myself slipping.”

“You don’t have to punish yourself for doing something you enjoy. I enjoy it, but I enjoy more than just killing people. There’s… There’s so much to it, it’s hard to explain why you love it. But plenty of people do.”

“I… admit that I took great pleasure in the intrigue back in Orlais. It was dangerous and chaotic… and exciting! But it destroyed my life.”

“No.” Mell shakes her head. “Marjolaine did that. It wasn’t you.”

“Perhaps… I thought the Chantry showed me another path. I thought I was done with this life… am I wrong?”

“But even in the Chantry, you knew you didn’t really belong there.”

“There is this thought that floats in my mind constantly… That I lie when I say the Chantry gave me peace. In truth… It bored me.”

“I imagine Chantry life is a little boring.”

Leliana laughs a little.

“Here, with you, though… Knowing the freedom of the road and the uncertainty of tomorrow… I feel alive again.”

“You know this is where you belong.”

“It’s been some time since I left Lothering. When I stepped out of the cloister, I had no idea where my path would lead. I walked where the Maker left me, and he’s rewarded me for my faith. I found you.”

“I… I’m glad your path led you here, too.” Mell links her fingers with Leliana’s, face warm as she looks down at the grass with a wide smile.

“You don’t know how it feels to hear you say that. But… It’s getting late. We should head back, I can’t help thinking about how soft and warm my bedroll is.”

Mell looks at her, a bit embarrassed, thinking that Leliana’s gotten cold.

“Oh! Oh, right, I’m… I’m sorry. We… Should get back, yes. I’ve been meaning to write in my journal.”

Leliana is giving her a peculiar look as Mell stands, offering a hand to help Leliana up.

“Yes, I’ve seen you writing in it before. Maybe you could bring it to my tent and I could watch you write.” Leliana takes Mell’s hand as she stands, not letting go as she laces their fingers once more. “I could give suggestions! ‘Dear Journal, Leliana has shown much affection for me. Even asked me to bed with her. But alas! Subtlety is lost on me’.” She giggles.

Mell lets go of Leliana’s hand to cover her face with both of her own.

“Oh!” She closes her eyes, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. “Oh, you were… And here I am being… You want me to come to bed!?”

“Now she gets it,” Leliana says gently, taking Mell’s hands away from her face to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Yes,” She murmurs before another kiss. “Yes, I very much do.”

They kiss for a few moments before Mell gasps out, “Elaina.”

“What?” Leliana pulls back, looking a little hurt. Mell realizes a moment too late she thinks Mell’s just named another lover and speaks quickly to clarify.

“My name. It’s… My name is Elaina. And you’re the third person I’ve ever told that.”

“Oh…” It takes a moment, but Mell watches it dawn on Leliana just how much that means. “Elaina…” Leliana kisses her again, and Mell can feel the smile.

Kisses deepen as they stand in the clearing, and it’s only the worry that some hapless member of their party could happen upon them that forces them back to camp, giggling as they make their way to Leliana’s tent. Mell has the sense to cast silence, at least, before they spend the night together properly. Mell’s journaling is forgotten until the earliest hours of the morning during her watch.

\----

_Anders,_

_I’m in love with her. I’m head over heels in love with her._

_In the tower, I thought a lot about my life. Specifically the span of it. I thought… I don’t know. Part of me thought I’d fail my Harrowing and they’d kill me. Part of me wanted to fail it on purpose so they **had** to kill me. I thought about death a lot. I thought about dying a lot, wondering what about living in that prison would drive me off, wondering what death would be like and hoping it was better than that._

_I don’t think about it anymore._

_I went into this so unafraid of death. I was free, yes, but I hadn’t counted on my freedom lasting long.  Even after managing to survive Ostagar, I wasn’t convinced I’d live very long at all. I was convinced I’d live a short life and I had accepted that._

_Now… Now I’m feeling better about my chances at living, but I’m still not sure I’ll make it out of this. More than that, Anders, now I’m scared. I’m scared of dying and I never have been before._

_I never had something I’d leave behind before… Not like Leliana._

_Maker, Anders, she’s beautiful. She’s everything to me, and I can’t leave her. I don’t want to die._

_We never talked about it  at the Tower._

_Maybe we should have. Maybe we’d have helped each other not be so… accepting of death. Helped each other not to come to want it, because I feel like  you did. I saw it, sometimes. But we never talked about it._

_Who knows? Maybe I will live. Maybe you’ll read this and I’ll be a hero and we can laugh about it._

_I wish you were here, Anders. For so many reasons. To meet Leliana. To pet my dog. To laugh with and share stories with. I miss your company. I miss Jowan’s company. I haven’t heard from him yet. For all I know I sent him to his death by telling him to run. I hope not._

_I wish you were both here.  I miss you two._


	7. Chapter 7

“I didn’t just hear you say that!”

Mell turns to look at Alistair, finally looking away from Loghain. Given that it’s the only thing she’s said in the past three minutes, she finds the question to be irritating at the absolute best.

After all, she’s just dueled a powerful general in front of the whole Landsmeet. She is the one who has been treading around a political minefield she never asked to be nominated to lead them through. She is the one who has negotiated every treaty, the one who has spoken for the Wardens to collect every army to throw at this damn demon. So, yes, she has just nominated one more body to throw at a wave of darkspawn ahead of her own. Is that so difficult to believe?

“You’re actually going to let him live? After everything he’s done? Kill him already!”

“Wait. There is another option.” Riordan emerges from the crowd and Mell’s irritation spikes. She wants to simply be done with this nonsense already, she wants to sleep, she wants to obtain lyrium and practice spells and work on not dying in the days to come.

“The Teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining.”

“My thoughts exactly!” Mell says, looking at Alistair and gesturing to Riordan. Alistair gives a disgusted noise and opens his mouth to speak again, only to have the senior Warden cut him off.

“There are three of us in all of Fereldan. And there are compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon.”

“The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?” Anora chimes in. “If he survives, you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn’t that satisfy you?”

Mell nods, eyes still on Alistiar.

“Absolutely not!” He explodes, backing away and raising his hands. “Riordan! This man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed. He hunted us down like animals, he tortured you! How could we simply forget that?”

“Who says I am?” Mell fires back, suddenly out of patience. She could not care any less about the nobility watching, about how supposedly civil this is supposed to be. She’s done playing this damned game. “Do you know what I am looking at, Alistair? Another man to stand between me and an army. More than that, he’s a man who knows what he’s doing when he’s standing between someone and an army! Why would I turn that down!?”

“Joining the Wardens is an honor, not a punishment!” Alistair continues, even as Mell lets out a derisive snort. Some fucking honor this life was. “Name him a Warden and you cheapen us all! I will not stand next to him as a brother. I won’t!”

“We need all the help we can get, Alistair!” She shoots back. “Are you saying you’d rather abandon this supposed honor of yours because we added one more man to the ranks who could be dead in a week? More than that, because we added someone to our ranks who, unlike either you or me, has led armies and seen battles we can’t even begin to know the scope of?”

“Loghain is a traitor. We ‘need’ him like we need to be stabbed in the back. Or have you forgotten how his being a ‘great general’ didn’t help the last time?” He sighs and looks away. “I didn’t want to be King. I still don’t. But if that’s what it takes to see Loghain get justice, then I’ll do it. I’ll take the crown.”

 _That has to be the most childish reason to take a crown I have ever heard._ Mell thinks, though she knows full well she’s going to tell them to put the crown on his damn head. Because she knows it’s better him than anyone else.

“Listen to this!” Anora steps forward. “Can you see how disastrous a King he’d be? Putting his own selfish desires above the needs of his country? You can’t seriously support him.”

“I have up until now, and I still do. The crown is rightfully his.” She doesn’t know piss all about governing, she doesn’t know shit about monarchies, but she knows who Alistair’s father was. And that’s good enough for her. “Besides, I thought the two of you were going to marry.”

“And I thought you weren’t going to stab me in the back!” Alistair rounds and her, and she keeps her face a mask to hide that the words cut deeper than expected. “Funny how nothing ever turns out like you thought.”

“Alistair! Compose yourself.” Anora snaps.

“Fine! You want Loghain in the Grey Wardens _so_ badly? Then I’ll be leaving the Wardens to marry Anora.”

It doesn’t surprise her. In all honesty, she has seen it coming since she declared she wanted Loghain to remain alive. It stings, though, more than she wants it to. For all the distance she’s tried to keep, Alistair has grown on her. She doesn’t want to part ways, and she certainly doesn’t want to do it like this, in some knockdown fight in front of every noble with a name worth spitting on.

“Good,” She says, instead, face still a calm mask. “Let’s get on with this.”

“Right…” Alistair sighs.

Anora is speaking again, addressing those at the Landsmeet, but Mell is already shutting the words out. She’s staring straight ahead, chin high, just registering it when Leliana’s fingers brush the back of her hand.

Mell and the party are led to a small side chamber, and Mell turns to Leliana as soon as the door shuts.

“Did I-”

She’s cut off as the door opens and slams against the wall, revealing Alistair, still furious.

“There you are. I need to have a few words with you!”

“Alistair, I’m.. I am sorry, but I really think this is for the best.”

“I get that you think so!” He crosses his arms, glaring at her. She sets her jaw and meets his gaze, unflinching and trying to act like there isn’t a part of her that’s shaking inside. From fear or sorrow or anger, she doesn’t even know. “Loghain let all the Grey Wardens die. Let his King _die._ All because he thought he alone could defend Fereldan against the dreaded Orlesians. No matter what your plans are, he deserved to die! He deserved justice, and you made him one of us!”

“Where he might well die, Alistair! And what business do you have saying ‘us’, you just told half the nobility in Fereldan that you’re not a Grey Warden anymore!” Mell takes a step forward, looking up at him. “And is that all you came here for? To shout at me again about Loghain? The decision is made, Alistair! You acted like I was the Senior Warden among us, you had me arrange all these treaties and speak to get all of these armies. So don’t come find me to shout at me when I act the Senior Warden in a way you don’t like and carry on a conversation about Loghain I was more than done having!”

“Well, that’s just too bad for you. He’s all I can really think about. But why should I complain, right? I’m the King now. And with a beautiful fiancé! Who is going to remind me of her father every time I look at her. I’ll make the best of it, I guess. I’m not going to roll over and let Anora rule, that’s for sure.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and finally Mell’s calm expression drops for one of shock and fury.

“Are we really playing this game now, Alistair? Some sort of… Messed up ‘I have it worse, now’. We both have it shit, okay? You had to be King and marry someone you don’t want. I have to go fight a fucking archdemon! Nothing in our lives has ever really gone right, so don’t come here and throw that at my face just now when I’m just trying to ensure that maybe, just maybe, most of us can get away from this damned dragon alive! Can you really, truly blame me for that? I know you’re hurt, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s a Blight! We’re Wardens! We give up what we want when we drink tainted blood!”

She finally stops speaking, realizing that her voice has risen to an incredible volume. That she’s been screaming in Alistair’s face so intently that he has backed up a couple of steps. She hears someone approach from behind and then Leliana’s hand is at her arm, gently pulling her back. She backs off a couple of paces, panting, refusing to acknowledge the burn at the corner of her eyes.

Alistair stands, silent, the glare still in place. There’s a long, tense silence while the two stare each other down.

“Well.” Alistair gives a curt nod. “Good luck with that, I suppose. You have a lot to do now, and so do I.”

He turns to leave, and  Mell collapses into a nearby chair, now shaking. She stares at the floor, blinking, while Leliana kneels in front of her.

“I’m so sorry.” She murmurs, taking Mell’s face in her hands.

The others are politely quiet while Mell and Leliana stay that way for a few moments. Mell doesn’t cry, she outright refuses, instead blinking and swallowing thickly until the burn fades from the corner of her eyes. Finally, she clears her throat and rises to face the group.

“Anora wanted to speak to us. Come on.”

\----

After Anora, Riordan wants to speak to her and Loghain. She goes, feeling hollowed out and exhausted and manages to leave feeling indescribably worse.

She’s always thought in this that she could very well die, but now it seems like such a certainty. So much so, in fact, that she knows she should talk to Leliana about this. She has to talk to Leliana about this, she deserves to know.

Numbly, she makes her way to her room, jumping with alarm at the sight of a figure in front of her fireplace.

“Do not be alarmed,” Morrigan says, “It is only I.”

“Oh. Morrigan.” She relaxes, letting her feet carry her to the bed, where she sits on the edge to look at Morrigan. “Is everything alright?”

“I am well. ‘Tis you who are in danger.”

“Tell me about it.” She mutters.

“I have a plan, you see. A way out. The loop in your hole.”

Mell jerks her head up, heart daring to rise from where it has taken up residence in the bottom of her stomach.

“I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you this does not need to be.”

“What… Do you mean?” Curse Morrigan’s cryptic way of speaking…

“I offer a way out. A way out for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice. A ritual. Performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of the night.”

“Just… What sort of ritual is this?” Caution seeps into her tone and her eyes narrow.

“It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some would call it blood magic, but I think that means little here, with so much at risk.”

There’s a long, cautious pause.

“Tell me more.”

“What I propose is this: convince Loghain to lay with me. Here, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be conceived. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process. After this is done, you allow me to walk away… and you do not follow. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish.”

Mell’s stomach flops again, and she closes her eyes tightly against the nausea. This sounds so much deeper than blood magic. This was tainting an unborn child, this was… There weren’t any words she knew for how on earth to describe this ungodly sort of magic.

“Mell,” Morrigan comes to stand before her. “This is what my mother intended when she sent me with you. She was the one who first gave me this ritual and told me what I was meant to do!”

“Right.” Mell huffs out a laugh. “The same one that wanted to steal your body and could become a dragon at will. That mother. The one I killed for how untrustworthy and dangerous she was. That mother.”

“It does not surprise you, does it? Did you not wonder why Flemeth saved you life, why she aided you? This is why.”

“So… This dark ritual is all to the ends of some swamp witch? She’s dead, what does it matter now?”

“That is not important.” Morrigan insists. “What is important is that I am offering this to you now. It will work and it will save your life. So, have you decided?”

“I can’t do this.” Mell says, immediately.

“Why?” Morrigan backs away, arms akimbo. “Because of Leliana? Do you truly believe she would condemn you or any other Grey Warden to death when it could be avoided? Do you truly think she wishes to see you gone? Consider the possibility that Riordan may not be there to make the final blow as he plans, what then? Do you run away?”

“There’s Loghian,” She says, her voice hollow.

“And what if he does not make it, either? Would you truly choose death rather than allow me to perform this ritual?”

“Yes.” Mell stands now, facing Morrigan with her hands clenched at her sides. “Yes, I would. This is… This is not a magic I am willing to have any part in. This is not a magic I am willing to ask anyone else to have any part in!”

“If you would rather,” Morrigan says, tone still cajoling, “Consider Leliana. What do you think she would advise, if she knew the life of her beloved was at risk. I think you know.”

“My life has always been at risk.”

“But never with so much certainty.”

“There will be no ritual!” She shouts without meaning to, then steps back, forcing her fists to unclench. “There will be no ritual…”

“You are a fool!” Morrigan turns away, staring at the fire. “I will not stand by and watch you waste this opportunity. Die, if you feel it is worthwhile! Or be overshadowed by Loghian, I care not.”

“Morrigan,” She steps forward, pleading. “You have to know why I cannot ask Loghain to do this! Don’t go, we need your help.”

“Would that I could have helped you. That is your doing, however, and not mine. Fare you well, my friend. I do what I must, now, and so shall you.”

Morrigan brushes past her on the way to the door, and Mell doesn’t turn to watch her go. She stands, fighting tears until she is certain that Morrigan will have gone. Then, she turns and makes her way at a near run down the hall to Leliana’s room.

“Mell? What… Are you alright?” Leliana jumps, turning from where she’s been laying her weapons on a chest at the foot of her bed.

Mell doesn’t reply with words, merely bowls into Leliana and clutches her as tight as she can, tears finally spilling over.

“Morrigan left.”

“What? Why!?”

Mell shakes her head in the crook of Leliana’s neck, tears falling harder.

Leliana, always so clever and knowing her so well, makes gentle noises to her. Before Mell realizes what’s happened, she’s been guided to the bed. Leliana’s warmth disappears and she gasps, curling in on herself for the brief moments it takes for Leliana to blow out the lamps. When she returns, Mell wraps her arms around her again, tucking herself against Leliana’s body with heaving sobs.

Eventually, she can’t cry any more. She wants to, but she simply has run out of any energy. Leliana doesn’t ask any more questions, merely holds her and runs her fingers over Mell’s scalp and makes gentle noises as exhaustion pulls Mell down into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

_Anders_

_I’m up so late it’s actually early. I can’t sleep. It’s impossible to sleep, so I’m just writing and watching Leliana._

_She’s so beautiful. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and I don’t know how to even begin to tell her that. I don’t know how to start explaining what I see when I look at her. I think that’s what people are trying to do with all those songs and poems, but it’s not close. I used to think they were kind of stupid, but now that I get what they wanted to do… It’s not so stupid any more._

_I wish you could meet her. God, I want to introduce the two of you and sit down and have drinks and talk. I want to talk to you and not be scared of what the Templars would think of what we’re saying. At least once._

_I don’t know if I can, and I want to. So badly. There are so many things I want to do._

_But I don’t even know if you’re alive after Uldred…._

_I used to feel okay about my chances of making it out of this. Then again, I used to feel pretty okay about dying and death. It never bothered me. You know that. I mentioned earlier in the journal. It didn’t scare me. I just… Knew it would happen. Sometimes I wanted it to happen. When I thought about dying, I was never scared._

_I didn’t have anyone to leave, really. I mean, there was you and Jowan but you’d be okay. You’d know I was somewhere better, even if I was just gone. Anywhere and anything was better than that fucking tower. It wasn’t as though it could get worse in death. It could get worse in the Circle._

_Now? I’d leave her._

_I can’t leave her._

_She’s sleeping so soundly and she looks absolutely perfect right now. I keep stopping my writing to just stare at her._

_This is so hard._

_Anders, do you know what happens when an archdemon gets killed?_

_I didn’t. Most people don’t, even though the connection seems so obvious now._

_Every story about a Blight ending, about the archdemon falling, think about the hero of that story. You know where they ended up. It always just sounded like… some coincidence. The Warden fought so hard to reach the demon, they didn’t survive long after the killing blow. Some sort of dramatic flair._

_It’s not just some storybook drama._

_When a Warden kills the archdemon, they die. It’s… I don’t understand exactly, but it’s like the archdemon’s soul… goes into them? Whatever it is, it kills the Warden._

_There’s three of us left to fight it._

_It would be four, but Alistair. He’s king now and he decided… I upset him enough he left._

_All because I wanted one more fucking body between me and a dragon with the Blight!_

_I dueled Loghian at the Landsmeet. I had to do all the talking in front of all the stupid nobles who wouldn’t give two shits about me if I wasn’t a Warden. They already didn’t care much for me because I walked in with a fucking staff on my back._

_And Alistair… I get why it upset him to keep Loghain alive, but he didn’t listen to anything I said about why I did it! Suddenly he was unhappy with me being the one to make the big decisions, when he’d been perfectly fine letting me go around and talk to everyone and get our fucking army built. _

_He said being a Warden was an honor, and that if we made Loghain one, it would be mocking that honor and he didn’t want any part of it._

_Personally, I don’t see the honor in tainted blood. I don’t see the honor in dying young and killing darkspawn and having nightmares all your fucking life._

_But it did hurt, when he left. In an odd way, he was still a friend. And it feels like he abandoned me._

_He wasn’t the only one, either…_

_Morrigan’s gone. She said she had a loop hole to the thing where the Warden who kills the archdemon dies. Something about her… conceiving the child of a Warden so that the child takes on the soul of an old god…_

_I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even ask Loghain, I just told her no. I wasn’t going to have any part in that magic._

_So she left. She said she wouldn’t watch me be a fool and die._

_Maybe I should have said yes. Maybe I am being a fool._

_I’m so tired, Anders. I don’t want any of this._

_I have to tell Leliana. It’s… It feels wrong to let her go into this without knowing what might happen to me. I’m going to promise her I’ll do all I can to make it out. And, Maker, I want to keep that promise. More than any other promise I’ve made in my entire life, I want to keep it. I’m going to try._

_If I don’t, I’m going to give her this journal and ask her to try to get it to you. She’ll have permission to read it, of course. I’ll leave her a letter, too. Something to remember me by, to keep._

_Either way, someday you’ll read this. You’ll either read it with me beside you, hiding my face at how utterly sappy this is, or you’ll read it after a beautiful woman with hair as red as the sunset gives it to you and tells you I told her to do so._

_You’re my best friend, Anders. I hope you’re safe and well and free. I hope Jowan is safe and well and free, too. I love you both. If you find him, if you get word to him, tell him that. You two were my only friends in the world while we were stuck in that tower. You mean the world to me._

_And so does Leliana. I love her more than anything. But that’s… All that is more for the letter, really._

_I hope I see you someday. If I don’t, remember me. Please. Whatever they make of me after this Blight, just remember me the way I was._

_And fuck’s sake, never ever let them forget I was a mage._

_Your friend,_

_Elaina_


	9. Chapter 9

When Mell wakes Leliana the next morning, it is early. So early that there is only the barest hint of warm light along the eastern horizon, cast by a sun that is not yet in view.

She wakes her slowly, with gentle touches that have her stretching and sighing then shifts those touches to draw out low moans.

It feels good to finally spend time together in a proper bed. With a door rather than a tent flap and no reason to hush themselves or rush things. It’s drawn out, slow and sweeter than Mell had any idea it could ever be. It feels so good it almost feels wrong, like she shouldn’t enjoy something this much with what is to come. When they finally find themselves lazily kissing in the afterglow, the sun has made itself fully known and is filtering through the windows.

Mell makes herself sit up, looking down at Leliana. Her lover stretches like a cat, back arching, the soft sunlight catching in her hair and accenting the dips of her collarbones and swell of her chest as it rises with the motion of stretching.

She wants to bottle this moment. She wants this to be where she lives, always, for the rest of her days on this earth. It’s where she wants to dwell after her life is done. It’s all she wants, and it makes what is to come worse.

“You’re miles away.” Leliana murmurs, rolling onto her side and propping herself up with one elbow. “Come back to me?”

Mell smiles at her, softly and so sadly.

“I need to talk to you.”

Leliana seems absolutely unsurprised by this, though her expression becomes one of concern.

“Yes?”

_Let’s run. Forget the horde. Forget the archdemon. Forget Loghain and everyone else. Let’s leave. We can go to Orlais and never come back. I want to run, I don’t want to do this, please._

She nearly says it. It’s so tempting to say, so tempting to do. But she has a duty. If Loghain and Riordan were to fail and she left, the Blight would consume Thedas. She had to do what she could, though she knew that she might fail as well.

“I… You’re a bard. You know all the stories about past Blights.”

“I do.”

There’s a question to her voice about where this is going and Mell steels herself.

“You know how those stories end. What happens to the hero.”

Leliana nods and her expression becomes more solemn.

“That’s… It isn’t some… dramatic touch.” Mell clears her throat, takes a long breath. “The Warden who kills the archdemon dies.”

There’s a long silence as Mell watches the information sink in, then possible responses flickering through Leliana’s mind. She actually opens her mouth a few times only to close it, blinking hard.

“Is there no way to avoid this?”

Leliana has a knack for getting directly to the point of a thing, and this morning is no different.

“I… There… supposedly is.”

Mell can tell that Leliana is studying her face, waiting for her to go on.

“But?” She prompts at last, knowing full well there is a ‘but’ coming.

“But it… was magic I wasn’t prepared to have any hand in. Morrigan offered a ritual, and I turned it down. It’s why… she’s left us, as well.” Mell’s nose is burning and the corners of her eyes sting. “I’m… She needed… She said she would conceive a child with Loghian and that this child would bear some old god’s soul or something and I just…” Her voice stops when a sob she’d been desperately trying to force down escapes her. She gives a ragged gasp, trying to shove it down again, trying not to panic. “I’m sorry. I… There wasn’t… I can’t be part of magic like that. I should have, I… I shouldn’t… I’m so sorry.”

Leliana’s hands are suddenly at the sides of her face, her lips to the top of her head. The sobs break free again and she wants to scream with how unfair it all is, especially to Leliana, and with how much it hurts. She almost wanted Leliana to hate her, because the gentle fingers at the base of her neck, the thumbs wiping tears from her cheeks, the press of lips to her forehead feels like a blessing she doesn’t deserve. She’s never felt less deserving of Leliana than in this moment, when she’s just told her she chose the possibility of death over the chance at life

“It’s alright.” Leliana is murmuring, and Mell’s brain seems to finally be coming back online to hear it. “Elaina… It’s alright, love. That sounds like blood magic, and I know you. It’s okay. You didn’t want that, and that’s okay. You’re allowed, that was allowed.”

Mell looks up, certain her face is a mess of puffy eyes and tears and a running nose.

“I could die. I… I passed up a loophole to this.”

“There are two other Wardens besides you.” Leliana’s hands are still so gentle as she pulls Mell close to cradle her, tucking Mell’s head into the crook of her neck.

“Riordan said he will try.” She snuffles and closes her eyes, realizing she’s shaking. “He will try for the final blow. If he doesn’t succeed, I will let Loghian carry that duty.”

“I’ll be with you.” Leliana holds her tightly. “I will be beside you and we’ll keep each other safe.”

Mell nods, sitting back up and looking at Leliana seriously.

“But… Just in case-”

“No.” Leliana places fingertips to Mell’s lips. “We’re not going to talk like that. You can’t think like that.”

Mell gives her a fond smile, heart absolutely breaking at the certainty Leliana has. At the faith that this former Chantry sister, who joined them because she believed it was the will of the Maker, has in someone like Mell. She takes Leliana’s wrist and kisses her fingertips before lowering her hand.

“I need you to do some things, just in case.” She continues, moving her hand so that her fingers lace with Leliana’s.

“Anything.”

“One is easy, they other might be harder.” She nods to the bedside table. “There’s a letter and my journal. The letter is for you. Open it only if… Only if.”

Leliana nods, gripping Mell’s hand tightly.

“The journal… I mentioned Anders. I’ve been writing it like it’s to him. It’s… I want him to have it. If you could find him, if you could give it to him and tell him… Tell him I lived a free life. You’re welcome to read it, I don’t have any secrets from you. But please, if you can. Find him. Give that to him. It’s… Please.”

“Of course.” Leliana kisses her gently. “Of course I will.”

Mell nods, and as she does it feels like something locks into place in her chest. There’s a resolve there that wasn’t before. She doesn’t want to run away. She wants to carry on with what’s to come. She wants to go into the end of this, wants it to be finished.

“I promise I will fight to stay alive.” She says, resting her forehead against Leliana’s. “I will not let them take me from you. They will have to fight harder than they ever have in their miserable lives to take me from you.”

It’s Leliana’s turn to let out a little sob, and Mell brings her close as she breaks in her own way.

They linger as long as they can, but when the sounds of motion from the other rooms reaches their ears, they force themselves to part. To leave the bed. To get dressed. Even as they do, they help each other in order to take in whatever small touches they can. They exchange all the kisses they can before going down, armed and armored, to join their companions. Mell takes Leliana’s hand as they leave the room and Leliana does not let go of it as they start on their way to Denerim.

\-------------------------

The roars of the archdemon are cacophonous. It feels like it is trying to shake the world apart with sound alone, and that any attacks it makes against them are secondary to this attempt. It can manipulate magics that Mell has never seen, beyond what she’d ever dared thought could come from it, and she wishes she’d known more about them before facing it head on.

Riordan, so far as she has gathered, fell. There’s a tear in the wing of the dragon, and it splashes blood everywhere whenever the beast alights to find a new perch from which to attack. She can only presume it was Riordan’s doing. Maybe his last doing.

For her part, she has spent much of this battle dashing to the outskirts of the fray. That was where a mage was best placed in a fight, and where a healer could do the most. She’d strapped flasks of almost dangerously concentrated lyrium potions to her belt, draining them in one swallow throughout the battle whenever she needed them. It burned her throat each time, and her body seemed to protest the concentration with a brief upheaval before the mana was already being channeled into spell after spell. There was no time for the excess to do her harm, as it was being utilized immediately.

It had been hours. She had been running, screaming, lashing out, healing, bleeding, sweating for hours. And that had even been before she reached the top of Fort Drakon. Now it was a desperate last grasp for a victory, a shout into a darkness that did not care and did not seem to have any end to it.

She hurts. Every inch of her aches in some way and she can feel a more base exhaustion creeping over her now. Her mana, despite the aid of lyrium, is faltering in its strength. She cannot do this much longer, there are limits to even the strongest arcane abilities, and she’s nowhere near that level. Soon she won’t have energy in her for a spell, potion or no.

Wincing, she downs another and raises her arms to trap the beast in another column of flame, at least the fifth time she has done so. Around her she can see what few members of the Dalish forces remain are desperately firing arrow after arrow at any weak point they can. Thanks to Loghain and Zevran, there are wounds that skilled marksman find purchase in.

Their biggest asset has been Leliana. When not firing arrows, she has been manning the ballistas on the roof. The beats had caught on and, when it could, destroyed those it got close to, but there are still some left that Leliana’s clever fingers manage to maneuver without jams or hang ups.

The fire fades and as the beast rears again, Mell shouts and sends an arcane blast to its chest, slamming her staff onto the ground as she does. The archdemon steps back as though to rear, then its legs give beneath it and its wings flap uselessly in another shower of blood.

Now. It must be now, and it must be Loghain. It has to be Loghian. Mell searches for him, spots him face down in a pool of blood, chest only just rising and falling. Trying to summon mana and failing, she reaches to her belt for a lyrium potion.

And finds nothing.

She’s out. There is nothing left on her to give her aid in reviving him. There are no other mages, they have no reason to carry lyrium. A healing potion cannot work on a man who is not conscious to swallow it, and even if it would there is no time for it.

She turns to Leliana, who has jumped atop the ballista and is using her arrows again with intense concentration. Leliana catches her eye, then, seeing something amiss, glances to Loghian. Leliana, clever and beautiful, realizes what is about to happen, what must happen. For a moment, her eyes close and she seems about to wilt before she has opened her eyes again, jaw set. She nods to Mell, blinking rapidly, and returns to firing arrows, screaming out without words against the horde.

Mell drops her staff and runs for the dragon, bending to pick up a sword dropped by a darkspawn on the way. She wonders, as she charges at the archdemon that is struggling to rise, if she will hurt when it happens. She wonders if the horde will stop after it dies, for if it doesn’t then her friends are doomed anyway. She wonders if Leliana will be able to find Anders.

The demon spots her and, like a cat, lunges for her. She ducks, holding the sword up as it passes over her, letting it slice itself down the throat and chest. Blood sprays her and she rolls away from its heavy form as it collapses again, shrieking. She rises to start sprinting again, screaming as she flips the sword in her grip and drives it into the creature’s rolling eye with all her might, leaning into the thrust as the blade sinks to the hilt.

It feels like she cannot let go of the hilt of the sword once it is buried in the dragon, as though there’s something keeping it there. Keeping her there. The archdemon shrieks and thrashes, its death throes roiling down the entirety of its body, but she cannot relinquish the grip on the sword. Growling, she twists it and the beast cries out again.

It goes limp and, in the same instant, she almost feels like sleep is creeping over her. For only a moment she tries to fight, she has but a moment before it takes her. Then there is nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

_Leliana_

_If you are reading this, then I am more sorry than I have words for. I cannot tell you how much I want you to never read this. But there is a chance you must, there is a chance that I may not be able to say all that I wish to, and there are things you need to know. That you need to be able to carry with you forever. Even if you already knew them without me saying them, you should be able to have them forever._

_I grew up scared of myself. I grew up frightened of my own family and, once they had indeed handed me over to the Templars, I grew up frightened of the Templars. Because they could take everything from you, absolutely everything. I never in my life thought I would live outside of that tower, away from men and women who could take anything and everything from me at a whim and with the ordained word of the Chantry. So I told myself that I couldn’t let myself have anything. I had two friends and I left the limit at that. I saw women in that tower that I wanted, but never let myself even think of it beyond a flicker of a desire, because they would inevitably take anyone from me in order to keep me in line. I saw it firsthand once, and it nearly broke Anders._

_Then I became a Warden, and by some miracle survived Ostagar, and then managed to walk into the very tavern you were in just in time for you to help keep me alive just that much longer._

_I have never really believed in the Maker, not as I was taught about him. Not the way Templars think He is, and because I didn’t know there could be anything else, I never believed there could be. I didn’t want a creator who wanted people like me locked up and frightened and kept on a leash, bound by our own blood._

_And then… Then I didn’t die in that tower when the Knight Commander was frothing for my blood. Then I didn’t die in Ostagar while I was trapped in a tower with nothing to face but a horde of darkspawn. And then I didn’t die in a tavern in a town so small it nearly doesn’t matter, saved by who else but a Chantry Sister._

_I wondered, in that moment, if there was something about the Maker that was worth believing in._

_And it kept on from there. You stayed by me, you laughed with me, you coaxed out gentle and happy and sweet parts of me that I thought had died due to neglect in a tower in a lake._

_Thank you for that._

_The likelihood that my life will end tomorrow is… shockingly high, and if it does than it will have been really unfairly short._

_And I’m not just talking about the years I’ve been alive. Life doesn’t mean you just exist and eat and breathe and keep on going, I realized. You did that, too, you helped me see that I could actually live. _

_So know that, though what I truly consider to be my life has only been a smattering of months, you have made it a life worth living. Something I never thought I’d have. And that, even the ugliest moments, the worst things, you were there and stood firm as anything for me._

_So I can say, if that fucking dragon kills me tomorrow, that I will have lived the happiest life I ever could have lived. Because of you._

_I really love you. I never thought I’d get to love anyone. It means everything to me._

_I think it’s safe to say I’d have loved you even if you hadn’t loved me back. You’re… It would have been near impossible not to. It’s just how you are._

_And what’s so amazing is that you did love me back. It was actually kind of more like… You took my hand and gently pulled me into being loved by you. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold night._

_I have never been more grateful or content or happy in my life._

_But what comes next is what I really, really want you to remember. Because I don’t know if you’ve ever heard these things. Or because you heard them from someone who did not deserve you, and you should hear them from me._

_I love everything of you._

_I love the spot on your forehead between your eyebrow and the part of your hair. I love all the scars you have and how you sigh whenever I kissed them. I love the way you’d jump whenever I touched that spot on your hip bone. I love the way you sing, how you close your eyes and seem to drown in your own music, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life._

_I love that you are sturdy and immovable in your convictions. I love that those convictions came to include protecting and being with and loving me. I don’t know what in my life I did to deserve that, but I won’t question it. I heard about the Maker working miracles, but I didn’t believe they happened until you._

_Because that’s what you are. You are a miracle. I want to say you’re my miracle, because you are, but I doubt you’re just mine. Anyone who meets you, anyone who gets lucky enough to be your friend or your ally, you will be a miracle in their life, too. In all you do, you are a miracle. Please, Leli. Never forget that. Don’t you ever forget that, darling._

_If you read this, do not let what led you to this situation break you. You will be able to keep your light, you will be able to stay that miracle, you will always be the woman who breathed life and hope and love into a woman who thought the Templars had snuffed it out. I’m not saying not to mourn, I’m begging you not to lose yourself to grief._

_You’re like the flowers you love, the ones I picked for you because the second I heard you talking about them all I wanted to do was make sure you always had them. You grow toward then sun, you brighten a landscape, you are the grace of Andraste herself._

_Keep being that grace, my dear. Keep being that grace in everything you do._

_Please, find Anders. Talk with him about me. Let him tell you about the few happy times I had in that tower so you can have that much more of me to hold onto._

_Keep this letter. Hold onto me. Do not let me go, do not forget who you are to me and to the world. I love you. Maker, I love you in a way so sweet it hurts and I’m so glad I got to love someone like this. I am so glad. I do not want to go tomorrow, but if I do, know that I go with the full knowledge that your life was my life’s best part. Know that I go happy and ridiculously in love with a beautiful woman._

_\- Yours, yours, yours for all days  
        Elaina_

Leliana doesn’t know when her knees refused to hold her up any longer. She doesn’t know when she hit the floor, dressed only in smallclothes, having just previously stripped out of bloodstained and sweatslicked armor. She doesn’t know when the tears started, only that they are flowing freely and she feels like she could drown in them.

She sets the letter on the table next to her, reaching up with a trembling hand and setting it down. In an effort to try to calm herself, she takes in a deep breath.

The exhale is an unrestrained, agonized, mournful scream that echoes in her room and that she knows full well carried through the halls of Denerim Castle. When she finally stops screaming, she inhales in gulps and gasps and every time she breathes out there is a whimpering sobbing to it and she cannot breathe.

If your heart was gone, wouldn’t that affect how your lungs functioned?

The door opens and rapidly shuts, and she doesn’t even raise her head. She had thought someone came to check on her and promptly left, but then there’s Alistair’s voice.

“Maker, I’m so sorry.”

She looks at him from her spot on the floor, ready to spit at him and shout at him and tell him that he left Mell when she needed his help, how could he _leave_ her, when she didn’t know what else to do, when she was just as trapped as he was, when people wanted her head and her blood and her leadership, how _could_ he, how _dare_ he?

Her mouth is open to say those things when she sees his face as he goes to his knees beside her, and all that comes out is another whine that carries on longer than it seems it should.

He looks like he wants to cut his own heart out to make up for the way he and Mell parted.

Because they were friends. And he and Leliana, they were friends. _Are_ friends. They cannot afford to be a ‘were’ to each other in any sense just now. There are so few of them left in this city who knew her, and she cannot turn away anyone who could help keep her from suffocating under this weight.

Alistair sits beside her and leans on the bed and, in only her smallclothes and sobbing so hard it makes her chest ache, Leliana lets her weight fall against him. There’s a moment of stillness before he puts and arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his side.

It feels like hours before her chest stops heaving and she settles into simply shaking, regaining her breath. She’d noticed, somewhere in the midst of her own upheaval, times when Alistair’s own chest had hitched and she’d heard the evidence of his own grief.

When she sits up, he’s looking at her like he wants to cut his heart out and hand it to her if that would make it better.

“I should’ve been th-”

She holds up a hand, because she cannot do this. She can never, ever do this. Yes, he should have been there. He really should have. That doesn’t mean he should have _died_. She wouldn’t want to have to prepare to bury him in the coming days any more than she wants to prepare to bury Elaina.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t…” He splutters and shakes his head, “Of course it matters! I refused to have anything more to do with her!”

“Look at everything we’ve had to do, Alistair.” She says, making a sweeping gesture. “Since when have any of us known what we’re doing in any of this? She didn’t know, you didn’t know, and it happened. It’s done.”

He opens his mouth to argue again, looking unbearably old behind red rimmed eyes. Finding nothing to say, he shuts his mouth and hangs his head.

“Get some sleep.” He finally says, rising and helping her up.

Leliana nods, sinking immediately down onto the mattress.

“I won’t wake y-”

“If you’re going to do anything with her, wake me.” Leliana demands, though she isn’t certain how much that conviction comes through while she’s curled up piteously on her side.

“I will, but…” He stops, then simply concedes. “I will,” before leaving the room.

It takes Leliana what feels like infinite hours and more tears than she had thought possible to fall asleep that night.

\------

The following months are spent reading and rereading Elaina’s journal, committing her note to memory, and questioning Templars across the country of Fereldan regarding the whereabouts of a mage named Anders.

She had returned to the Fereldan tower at the beginning of this search and had spent nearly two weeks there ensuring, through records and firsthand accounts, that Anders had not died during Uldred’s rebellion. Afterward, she had followed every account she could of the apostate, using every resource available to her.

It had taken her six and a half months to find him in Amaranthine, no longer an apostate, but a Warden. She thought that Elaina would find that amusing, were she still here.

The Warden-Commander here is some Orlesian that, for reasons she cannot say, gets under her skin. Perhaps because she knows, deep down, that this would be Elaina’s position had she survived. She cannot help but feel that this Orlesian does not belong where her lover should by rights be. So she keeps her words to him terse before being directed to Anders, and finds him in the small courtyard of the keep, dangling yarn before an orange tabby kitten.

“Anders?” She pulls the hood of her cloak back and feels the wind move her hair in front of her face.

“Can I help you?” The mage stands, string dropped for the kitten to do with as it pleased. He looks wary, as though expecting her to be a Templar come to drag him back in spite of his status. Elaina never stopped wearing that expression around new people.

Leliana removes the pack from her shoulder and removes the journal from it, extending it out to him. He doesn’t take it, merely looks at the book. Then at her. Then raised an eyebrow.

“This was… I knew…” She stops and takes a breath, it all coming upon her that she and this man have one person in common. For Anders, she was one of his only friends in his lonely life confined in a tower. For Leliana, she had been… Everything. A light in the dark. More than she’d ever dared to hope or ask for.

“Elaina.” She finally says, simply, lump rising in her throat even at that simple word. “This is… _was_ Elaina’s.”

Anders takes it as though it cannot be in his hands fast enough, then regards Leliana again. An up and down, the distrust still there, but now with a curiosity, a hope, a desperation to have some part of his friend back through her. She knew that last feeling well, because she was hoping for the same thing in him. A glimpse into the life Elaina had before her, just one more small piece of her, something else to hold onto.

“How… Did you know her?” He asks, now staring at the simple book in his hands.

Leliana almost laughs, because how in the world can she answer that. How did she know Elaina?

“I was… She was… We were…” She shakes her head.

“You’re the one they talk about.” Anders says in the silence, and there’s something like wonder in his voice.

“They talk about me?” She has avoided the tales spreading about the Hero of Fereldan ever since they began spreading. Because she could not handle any untruths about her lover, nor could she have been reminded of those achingly sweet truths of what they’d shared.

“They say there was a woman who never left her side. With firey hair and the skills of an Orlesian bard. It sounds just like a legend, they talk about you like you two were… Like you two were on par with Andraste and the Maker, almost.” He replies.

“Ah. Then… I suppose that’s me, yes.” She doesn’t know what to make of what he’s told her. She doesn’t know if she likes it or dislikes it. What she does know is that Elaina is dead so it doesn’t much matter how they talk, it’s all in past tense and that hasn’t stopped hurting.

He looks at her for a long moment before nodding, as though to himself. He turns to grab the kitten up in his arms and gestures for Leliana to follow.

They find a corner of the keep, quiet and grassy, and lean against the shade cooled stone to talk.

They stay until it is dark, and even beyond that, with Anders holding a flickering flame in the palm of his hand to light their conversation.

They give each other as much of Elaina as they possibly can, with the sole exception of Leliana’s letter. Hours spent sharing and talking and learning about each other through memories of a person they’d both held so dear.

She thanks him, and stays the night in a quiet guest room. She leaves before the dawn, unable to handle more of the emotional complexity of saying good bye to Anders.

As she departs Amaranthine, she reflects on words that Elaina said to her. Things about being who she truly is, about not being scared of who she might have become after Marjolaine. The past seven months have proved that Elaina was right, that Leliana needed to become that person. But she cannot help but wonder, as she departs for places and a fate as yet unknown, what sort of person that will continue to make her, and if that person is one Elaina still would have loved.

It pains her that the answer may not be one she desires.


End file.
